


no need to rush, my pace

by dianying (orphan_account)



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sort Of, Tentacles, [star eyes emoji], co-masturbation, venom makes eddie's dick hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16294454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dianying
Summary: ‘NO!’ Venom’s protest just about shatters his skull, and his limbs go half numb as Venom takes over again, dragging him back to the bed— away from the shower. ‘No shower. I will help you take care of your... arousal.’Jesus. Jesus Christ.





	no need to rush, my pace

**Author's Note:**

> i have nothing to say  
> maybe i'll go back and tag my porn properly 
> 
> title from my pace by skidz 
> 
> disclaimer: i have no beta and i did not edit this

Eddie Brock thinks of himself as a considerably healthy person.

(He cuts off Venom’s ‘ _Your diet consists of beer, tater tots, and—_ ’ with a sharp nudge equivalent to an elbow in the ribs toward Venom’s consciousness.) _Anyways_ , he considers himself relatively healthy, for the amount of money he makes. Healthy- _healthy_ food was really fucking expensive, and why buy starchy (‘ _Dead._ ’) vegetables when you could buy two bags of pre-fried frozen versions of said vegetable (‘ _The tater tot vegetable!_ ’) for the same price?

Healthy. Sure, he eats mostly junk food and his sleep schedule is perpetually fucked up, but he showers regularly and manages to not look like the utter and complete mess he is inside (‘ _ **I**... am inside you,_ ’ says Venom appraisingly. “Exactly,” he replies.).

(Moisturizing— being the one thing he’s not an utter failure at, a habit Anne forced him into that he doesn’t feel like breaking. He likes have smooth skin. Makes him look younger, apparently. ‘ _Not like an old thirty almost forty year old couch tater tot—_ ’ “Be quiet.”)

And his sex drive— healthy. He had Anne when he was dating her. He had his hand when he got dumped. But then, fearing for your life as one certain insane Carlton Drake killed innocents trying to stick aliens into their bodies, attempting to separate you from the parasite leeching at your organs... (‘ _Parasite—! You take that back!_ ’ “No.” ‘ _Eddie!_ ’)

—well, it did something to your sex drive. A not good thing.

(Read: he hasn’t ~~gotten off~~ scratch that, gotten _hard_ in weeks. )

So of course, when he’s woken up by Justin Bieber’s tinny prepubescent voice crooning into his ear, Monday Morning Wood greeting him like a happy little annoyance ( _Like your alien head roommate_ , his brain remarks. ‘ _That is unkind—!_ ’)— well, he feels mostly annoyance. But he _should_ be relieved,—

right?

His phone begins to buzz as he scrubs his hand down his face. _A board meeting at 8, lunch with Anne and Dan, Tony Stark interview notes, print those papers out, a one-on-one with The Boss™ to discuss The Brock Report—_ oh, god. Who in their right mind planned board meetings at 8 am— _how the hell is it already six thirty_ —!

‘ _Morning, Eddie,_ ’ Venom chirps, stirring beneath his skin. Of course, one annoyance finds the other in record time— Venom’s mass—though not physical and ‘ _More of your brain making things up_ ’—curls up in his lower stomach. “G’morning Venom,” Eddie mumbles, resisting the urge to lie back down. He is a _responsible_ adult. No sleeping in. The minutes tick by as he stares at the empty spot on the wall, willing Monday Morning Wood to go away ~~before Venom asks what it is—~~ ‘ _What is this?_ ’

6:46. Does he have time to j—? Whatever. He ignores Venom’s question and rolls himself out of bed, waddling to the bathroom. His knuckles brush his dick and he almost spasms, _this_ fucking close to just shooting off like a person half his age. Both he and Venom shudder, and—‘ _Eddie what was that._ ’— _before_ the symbiote can open his metaphorical mouth, he strips off his loose sleep clothes.

No _way_ is he jerking it with an audience, especially an alien audience, so... cold shower it is.

He cranks the shower cold cold cold and steps in, hopping from one foot to the other. Almost instantaneously, his erection begins to wilt, from the pain of not ice but feels like ice water thrumming over his shoulders.

‘ _What are you doing!_ ’ Venom yelps, shriveling up in Eddie’s center. So it _did_ go both ways, the dumb feel-good mental link or whatever. _When you feel good, I feel good._ When I feel bad, you feel bad. ‘ _Eddiewhatareyou **doing** —!_’

Eddie rolls his shoulders. “I’m showering,” he tells Venom flatly. He stares balefully down at his erection, the stubborn bitch refusing to go down quicker— _probably because you haven’t been hard in weeks_ , a traitorous voice whispers. There’s something equivalent to a mental shiver from his alien brain roommate. ‘ _I **really** don’t like this, Eddie..._ ’

A minute later he finds himself face down on his bed, water droplets sliding off his skin and onto his sheets. Venom. “Venom—” he sighs into the pillow, the familiar tingle of the symbiote relinquishing control of his limbs. “What have we discussed about non-consensual taking over of my body?”

(Taking over Eddie’s body is only allowed: 1. when given permission to; and 2. when Eddie or Venom’s life is danger.)

To his credit, there’s a tinge of guilt as Venom emerges from his back to peer at him. ‘“ _Only when given permission or when either of our lives are in danger,_ ”’ he recites mulishly. Eddie raises an eyebrow, patting his now cold and damp sheets. “Were you given permission, just now?”

‘ _It didn’t feel good!_ ’ Venom whines childishly. ‘ _You felt good before, then— then! You just ruined it!_ ’

There’s a certain agitation to Venom that Eddie also feels, given their strange mental bond connection, and he feels it like a needle in his chest. Usually the symbiote was just a little shit, and complaining about everything Eddie did and talking shit about how horrible clumsy and inefficient humankind (Eddie, mostly) was. It was teasing, as was Venom shrieking faux-angrily at him as he popped the tray of tater tots—‘ _don’t do that, you’re making them taste dead!_ ’—into the oven. He eases up onto his arms, ignoring his (still) half-hard dick.

“What do you mean?” he asks, swiping dripping hair out of his eyes. It feels oddly like Venom is pacing inside him, in circles around and around, agitated.

Hesitation. ‘ _You— the— your dick. When you touched it, it felt good— and I felt good._ ’

Jesus. Eddie resists the urge to rub his hand down his face— how was he supposed to go about explaining masturbation to an alien who didn’t even— _does Venom have a penis?_ — _appear_ to have a dick. How _do_ aliens even reproduce? (This to which Venom perks up, sliding back into his skin and flashing a strange loop of two dark gelatinous masses merging together and splitting apart, leaving jelly-like eggs. Oh, god.) and then he had to explain being horny to Venom— wait, maybe he didn’t, Venom always seemed horny—

Oh, god.

He takes a deep breath. The clock reads 7:22.

“Venom— you know how you like to look for memories of Anne and I having sex and play them while I’m in very important meetings?” he begins lowly, very aware of the seconds ticking by. The symbiote stirs— not, not uneasily. A little confused. A little giddy at the thought of embarrassing his host. A little more giddy at the thought of Anne. (Like host, like symbiote, Eddie supposes.) “So, like, umm, when humans get aroused—”

‘ _I have been aroused before._ ’ there is a very graphic image of Venom biting into a large, writhing,— thing. With a shell.

This is like, like explaining sex to a child. Eddie was never good with children, because god _forbid_ a mother let _Eddie Brock_ look after her child. “— sexually aroused, I mean, they have— they have sex. Well, they get aroused because they have sex and—” (a pained _oh, god_ ) “—and if they have partners they have sex with their partner. Or they go out and find someone to have sex with.”

‘ _Have you ever gone out to find someone to have sex with?_ ’ the symbiote asks, a little warily. ‘ _You aren’t going to go and find someone to have sex with, right? You can go find Anne._ ’ He gets increasingly agitated. ‘ _I can bite Dan’s head off if you want to have sex with Anne— I like Anne and I don’t like Dan, he put us in the loud machine thing—_ ’

Another sigh. He lays his head back onto the pillow. Harder to talk, but Venom understands what he’s saying when he’s got a mouth full of slightly burnt tater tots. “ _Anyways_ , sometimes your partner doesn’t want to have sex. Or you can’t find anyone to have sex with. So you take care of your arousal yourself. Via... via masturbation. Sometimes people masturbate to become aroused— this is so hard to _explain_ — but masturbation, um, it’s like having sex? sex with yourself.”

‘ _What were **you** doing, then? Is having sex by yourself equivalent to torturing yourself?_ ’

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Yeah, so sometimes you don’t have time to masturbate, and so you get rid of your arousal another way.”

‘ _Torturing yourself. Torturing oneself and their alien friend must get rid of any sexual arousal very quickly,_ ’ Venom deadpans.

Thank god Eddie isn’t into BDSM, or that— that would be rather difficult to explain.

“No, well—” Silence. He notices his lovely, rather dysfunctional penis hasn’t flagged at all during the rather awkward conversation with Venom. A sigh. “I’m going to go finish that shower that you so politely _interrupted,_ ” he says, heaving himself off the bed—

‘ _ **NO!**_ ’ Venom’s protest just about shatters his skull, and his limbs go half numb as Venom takes over again, dragging him back to the bed— away from the shower. ‘ _No shower. I will help you take care of your... arousal._ ’

Jesus. Jesus Christ.

 _Of course_ he had to get saddled with _this_ alien. Could he not have gotten a nicer, politer, good alien? Or no alien at all? And _of fucking_ —fucking!— _course_ Venom exists by a _can do all, will do all_ attitude. Almost instantaeneously, he leaves Eddie’s limbs, instead securing him in place externally via thick bands of his alien... flesh. Against his bare skin... Venom tightens around him, and wigglier, more flexible tentacles (for lack of a better word) smooth over his goose-bumped skin. Venom is bright in his mind.

He’s flipped over. The symbiote’s tentacles are thick and solid and slippery smooth with a slickness that settles as cold in his skin. His mind feels oddly clear for the first time in months.

A tentacle skids over his nipple. He goes embarrassingly hard in just that moment— his nipples are a direct line to his penis. That’s why he never got them pierced— he’d probably come, and _that_ — that would be embarrassing. Venom, of course, takes note of his reaction— brushes a tendril over his nipple again. More deliberate. He shudders. ‘ _Oh?_ ’ then lightly, lightly circling the pale brown nubs, fine end of the tendril flicking over his nipple. ‘ _Interesting._ ’

He spasms, a shout sticking in his throat— about to come. His hands jerk up toward his dick but Venom’s holding them down. The symbiote cackles gleefully, winding his tentacles around Eddie’s dick, wrapping around his balls. ‘ _That feels ve~ry good, Eddie,_ ’ he says, a complete 180 from before. ‘ _I like that. I like feeling good. I wanna feel good more._ ’

“Didn’t you say you were going to help me get off?” Eddie gasps, pants, slowly settling back into his skin. Venom around his dick and balls— god, it feels so good but it’s like, like, a soda can. Shaking inside, wanting to be let out. He shrinks away as Venom(‘s tentacles) pounce (pounce?) back onto his chest.

The symbiote does something equivalent to a shrug, a smirk. ‘ _This is more fun,_ ’ he says lightly. ‘ _I will... get you off, after I’m done._ ’ Eddie resists the urge to groan as thicker tentacles coil around his thighs, tickling at the soft skin there. ‘ _You are so sensitive everywhere, my darling Eddie._ ’ And maybe it’s the two tendrils swirling around and around his nipples, or the slick slide of the tentacles up his thighs and toward more private parts of him, or the constant movement of the tentacles holding his dick and balls, tightening and releasing and tightening and releasing and— _releasing_.

His orgasm almost feels like a second thought. Venom’s pleased-ness boils in his veins, making him feel _good_. Good good goodgoodgoodgood _good_.

“ _Symbiosis!_ ” Carlton Drake’s voice echoes in his head— Symbiosis; when two organisms coexist. Coexist isn’t the only thing he and his alien friend do, he thinks, almost hysterically. He comes, and Venom collects of it, little suction tubes opening in his tentacles and sucking it all up. It’s disgusting yet unbelievably hot at the same time.

He definitely needs a shower now. Despite Venom slurping up his cum— wait, was semen dead or alive?— he still feels slightly sticky and sweaty. He’s quivering still as he pushes himself off the bed. Oh god, he’s going to be late for the goddamned staff meeting—

‘ _Oh, Eddie, you didn’t think we were **done** , did you?_’ Venom drawls, voice even deeper and resonant. His voice rumbles in Eddie’s bones like thunder rolling in the distance. Oh, god. Oh god oh god oh Jesus Christ god. He opens his mouth to protest and Venom slides into his jaw, locking it. He can’t move, only blink.

He sinks back onto the bed— _Venom_ sinks back onto the bed, holding him in place as he tries to coax his soft dick to hardness again. And Eddie does, he _does_ pride himself on being _relatively_ healthy, but he’s in his thirties closer to forty than thirty— god, he. He needed twenty minutes. Or a week.

‘ _No. You can do this. You do want to feel good, don’t you Eddie? Come on, Eddie. You can do this, I know you can,_ ’ the symbiote whispers, a little echo in the cavity of Eddie’s chest. And his dick— god, his backstabbing, idiot, doesn’t-know-better dick, it plumps up from a combination of Venom’s gentle petting and the deep rumble of the symbiote’s praises. ‘ _Yes!_ ’ crows Venom happily.

The moment his dick becomes fully hard— _again_ , in less than an hour,—Venom wraps it in a sheath of his black flesh, that clenches tightly like an ass does. He barely remembers his time with men—it’s been over fifteen years since his last male bedmate. Helpfully, Venom draws up some of his spank bank material— that one time when he’d been a baby-faced (‘ _You still are baby-faced, Eddie,_ ’ Venom remarks absently, focusing on stroking Eddie’s dick and tamping down his entire body’s reactions) youngish adult, fresh out of college, and had stumbled into a bar where another man bent him over the bathroom sink and fingered him until he came.

‘ _You like that? You like that kind of stuff?_ ’ Venom asks curiously, a tendril probing at his tight asshole. _Fifteen years_ , Eddie tries not to think. The tendril secretes some sort of slick liquid, swiping it up and into Eddie’s hole. A light push and the wriggly black tentacle slips inside, wiggling against the walls of his asshole. The tendril brushes over his prostate, and Eddie writhes— as much as he can, anyways, with Venom’s hold on his limbs. ‘ _Oh...!_ ’ the symbiote exclaims, as if discovering something new. Sounding like when he’d found out tater tots tasted better cooked.

As the tentacle keeps up the constant teasing touches to his prostate, Venom’s grip lessens on his face, though he keeps Eddie’s lips open. He finds out _why_ a moment later when a thin tentacle pokes into his mouth from the side of his lip, settling on the back of his tongue right before his throat before _expanding_.

It fills his mouth in a matter of seconds. It feels rubbery, pushing relentlessly down his throat, making him gag. Fifteen years, fifteen long years. Venom tastes— Venom tastes clean and cold and fresh, like biting into a stick of celery. (Venom doesn’t mind when Eddie’s teeth clench into the flesh, which gives easily but doesn’t break.) Everything is eased by the slick fluid that Venom leaks, and it tastes like how soap smells.

His lips are stretched tight around the intrusion, and his eyes water. High, reedy whines pull from his throat. Another tentacle circles the base of the one already inside him, before poking into his asshole and expanding too, as the one in his mouth did, only at a slower pace.

Everything is so _wet_.

The sleeve around his dick continues to pulse slowly, as the bit flooding his mouth goes deeper and deeper and deeper, far farther than where a dick would be able to go. The part in his asshole grinds slowly across his prostate. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, not because of pain but because— because.

‘ _You know I would never hurt you, Eddie,_ ’ Venom says then, and Eddie wheezes through the intrusion in his mouth. Desperation— that, yes, it floods through his blood, everywhere where Venom is and where Venom can be. He’s shaking in the grip of his alien symbiote. ‘ _I would never let you be hurt, least of all by me._ ’

 _I know, I know, I know that_. He lets himself relax into the symbiote. It feels like tipping off the side of a building, falling with his back to the ground and eyes to the sky, knowing there is a safety net there to catch him. Wind whistling through his hair. It is then when he realizes there’s a hand combing through his sweaty, matted hair, Venom’s clawed approximation of fingers scratching over his scalp. Tears track down his face in earnest now, as he bucks in Venom’s solid grip.

I would never hurt you, let you be hurt. He remembers agony as he lays on the street, limbs twisted, breath shallow feeling like he’s about to _die_ and Venom seeps into his veins, straightening him out. Straightening him out, smoothing him out, pressing an old piece of clay and making something new of it. He’d felt wary at first, having to share a space he considered very much his own, but he hadn’t felt scared of Venom, ever. ‘ _That’s right, that’s good, Eddie._ ’ The suction around his poor dick ramps up, slowly but surely, though the mass down his throat eases up and the bit in his ass grinds down harder against his prostate, slower but harder.

And then the feeling of coming is like being caught by his safety net, the ropes stretching around his body like the symbiote’s flesh, a freefall that ends with him safe and unharmed. He comes, groan strangled as Venom melts out of his body, his throat to not muffle the sounds of his orgasm, releasing his hold on Eddie’s body and Eddie, he arches off the bed as he comes.

Venom’s Venom-head extends from his shoulder, warm bumpy tongue licking up the white cum crusting over Eddie’s stomach. He’s not being controlled anymore but he lies slack, dick soft against his inner thigh. He was definitely hopping into the shower the moment he feels like standing up— maybe he’ll make Venom clean him. Venom could literally reach all those hard to reach places.

“I am going to be so late for that staff meeting,” Eddie mumbles hoarsely. His boss, his coworkers, tomorrow Eddie are all going to kill today Eddie, but he’s so drunk on bliss he doesn’t even care that much.

‘ _I think what we did was better than some boring staff meeting,_ ’ Venom replies, nuzzling against his host’s cheek. ‘ _Time to go to sleep, Eddie._ ’

And go to sleep he does.

**Author's Note:**

> on twitter @[kingzhys](https://twitter.com/kingzhys)!


End file.
